


the cult of dionysus

by outglut



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Explicit Sexual Content, Handcuffs, Hermaphroditic Trolls (Homestuck), M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Narcissism, One Night Stands, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Size Difference, Vibrators, and other fun methods of bondage!, just a bit, kind of, really what did you expect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-01-31 13:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21447049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outglut/pseuds/outglut
Summary: It's an updated-when-I-get-bored collection of Lanque NSFW. That's really it. I'll take requests, check the end notes for rules and shit like that
Relationships: Lanque Bombyx/Original Male Character(s), Mallek Adalov/Lanque Bombyx
Comments: 5
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i don't write explicit shit very often! i am just immensely bored. happy no nut november

There is nothing out of the ordinary with what you’re currently doing.

No, really. That isn’t sarcasm, this is a typical Friday night. You’re on the arm of some guy whose name you don’t even know(you think he’s an indigo, but you could be wrong), being led to his hive after a party you hadn’t found all that entertaining. The walk is filled with flirtations and brisk touches here and there, not so subtle hints that neither of you will be chickening out at the last moment, here.

When you reach his hive, the first thing you notice is that it’s _ big _ (probably right about that indigo thing). It’s fancy, bordering on _ too _ fancy, but hey, you would be if you could be, not judging. He pulls you inside and closes the door behind the both of you, wasting no time in pushing you up against it and pressing his lips to yours. It’s a hot, desperate kiss, not the lovey-dovey shit you’d get from a matesprit or some cheesy bastard, and it’s _ perfect. _Your arms move to rest over his shoulders, hands clasped together behind his head. 

He pulls away after a bit, and you open your mouth to bitch about it, but he picks you up like you weigh a couple ounces(_ definitely _ right about that indigo thing) and carries you away from the door, up a set of steps. You busy yourself with leaving lipstick prints along his jawline.

Eventually, he drops you unceremoniously onto a concupiscent platform. You’re about to bitch about _ that _ , too, before he climbs over you and continues the make-out session. He’s straddling your hips, and like this, you can feel what has to be his bulge writhing under his pants(he’s _ that _ easy, really?), and it had to be _ huge _ from what you can feel, you’re definitely taking tonight, not passing up that opportunity. 

His mouth leaves yours again and he starts trailing kisses down your neck, onto what he can reach of your chest and collarbone through your partially opened shirt. He starts to unbutton that, clothes are for prudes, anyways, but his kisses don’t return to your lips, and no, that won’t do. You close your hand in the hair at the back of his head and _ pull _ , dragging him back up to your face to crash your mouths together aggressively. He goes with it for some time(not enough time) before separating with an obnoxious smirk on his face.  
  


“I think you’re having delusions about who’s in charge here. Silly little jade,” he murmurs, low in your ear, and that might have gone straight to your bulge but you’re not just going to _ show _ that.  
  


“_ I _ think you’re projecting,” you snark back, smiling sweet as you guide his face back in front of yours with one hand.

_ “Excuse _ me?” he growls, grabbing your wrist and pressing it against the platform.  
  


“I. Think. You’re. Pro. _ Ject. _ Ing,” you repeat, slowly.  
  


He makes an incoherently angry noise at that, and apparently decides to stop playing Mister Nice Guy, grabbing your other wrist and pulling it to meet the other, holding both of them in one hand. The other hand pulls your undone tie away from your collar and he ties it around your wrists, holding them together when he lets go. You test the knot, and find that not only is it a good fucking knot, your wrists are also tied to the frame of the platform.

“Oh, are we finally getting to the fun part?” you ask, shifting underneath him to get more comfortable.

“You should shut up if you know what’s good for you,” he warns, slipping his pants off.

  
  
“You should make me,” you challenge. _ Yes, _ it’s cliche, that’s the _ point _. 

He makes another angry noise in the back of his throat, like an irritated chittering, and doesn’t even finish taking off your shirt, just unbuttons your pants and tugs them off, tossing them away as he repositions so he’s kneeling between your legs, spread out on either side of him.

  
  
“Be _ careful _ with those, they’re-” you start, but you’re cut off when he shoves three fingers inside you without warning, and _ oh _, his hands are pretty big, why weren’t you expecting that? Your mouth opens wider on a gasp.

“That’s more like it.” His fingers start moving in and out of your nook, and it burns(as it does when some giant forces half his fingers into you without prep), but the burn disappears after a couple thrusts. You can’t help but think, as one of your fangs digs into your bottom lip and your back arches up, that if _ this _ burned, his actual bulge is going to be _ so much better. _

And you’re right. Soon enough, he gets sick of only you getting the pleasure and takes his fingers out of you. You make a clicking noise in your throat, high and annoyed, but he quickly replaces them with the tip of his bulge, squirming inside of you already as he pushes deeper in. You moan, smiling, and you wish you could pull him down and make him kiss _ and _ fuck you senseless, but no, the fucker tied your wrists together.

“Hurry it _ up _ already,” you maybe whine, but it’s only to get him to get this first bit over with.

He _ stops. _

“I _ swear- _”

“You want me to do this faster?” he asks, a teasing grin on his face.

  
  
“Are you deaf? _ Yes. _ I _ told _ you that I do already, moron.” Perhaps you’re playing up the bitchiness a bit. It seemed to work earlier.

Lo and behold, he was just as easy to predict as you thought. He slams the rest of his bulge into you, and you let out a noise that was half pleasured, half pained, your eyes falling shut.

That was only the beginning.

  
  
He starts a slow, rolling pace, in and out of your nook. After a bit of that, you open your mouth to _ request _ again that he _ go fucking faster, _ but he claims your mouth with his own before you can, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he obeys without even having to hear your demanding. Your noises slip from your mouth into his, and he makes some of his own, growling and moaning and panting every time you separate to breathe. He pulls away and moves back down to your shoulder, pushing your shirt out of the way, but instead of kissing, he bites down right as he slams again into you, and you make an _ embarrassingly _high-pitched noise that only gets louder when one of his hands starts playing with your bulge. 

He laughs, letting your shoulder go and licking over the bite mark. “Yeah, you’re _ definitely _in charge, here,” he taunts.

“You’re the one- doing ev_ ery _thing I want you to do,” you point out, your voice breaking between words or raising when he pushes into you again.

  
  
“You’re the one with your hands tied, taking my bulge like a common whore,” he says. That _ shouldn’t _ make you more turned on. It really shouldn’t. It’s the worst thing, why do indigos think they sound _ good _ when they say weird shit like that? You blame it on his huge bulge when you moan. He laughs, and keeps fucking into your nook, over and over again.

“If you spill before I’m done, I won’t stop,” he oh-so-helpfully informs you when your noises start getting louder and faster, and it does nothing to help your situation, the thought of him fucking you after you’ve already come is _ shamefully _ hot to you. God _ damn _ it.

The pleasure builds, and builds, and you don’t tell him when you’re about to come, because why would you, but it’s pretty obvious when you spill jade over his hand with a shout, your back arching up. And, true to his promise, he doesn’t stop, if anything, he goes _ faster, _ slamming his bulge harder into you, and you’re almost _ wailing, _ you _ never _ do that, but here you are, the pleasure overwhelming you so soon after you thought it had hit its peak. 

He laughs again, and repeats, “Silly little jade,” and could he have the _ decency _ to even sound _ a little _ like he’s fucking someone?

You don’t know how long it is before he comes, you just lay there, writhing, your legs shaking every time he thrusts in, your moans wanton and unabashedly _ loud _ , did he have any neighbors is there anyone outside they can probably hear you, oh well, but eventually he bottoms out inside you and stills, letting out a choked noise as you feel _ cold _ inside you, oh wow, that’s a lot, isn’t it, and you’re coming _ again _ as he does, what the fuck, that’s so much more cleanup, you’ll just make him do it, it’s his hive anyways.

His head drops to rest on your shoulder, and the both of you are breathing heavily. You shake him as much as you can. 

“Untie me.”  
  


“Give me a _ second,” _ he growls.

You wait a second. “Untie me.”

He sighs, and complies, rolling his eyes when you grin smugly. He takes your shirt off completely and picks you up like a real gentleman, taking you into the ablution block and placing you in the tub, stopping the drain and running the hot water. You hum and close your eyes, satisfied. Just another Friday night.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's very similar kinks to chapter one but this one has an identifiable character and kismesissitude. everything is 100% consensual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe one day i'll write top lanque

When your kismesis called you to his barely-a-hive, you were concerned, to say the least. Excited, absolutely. But concerned, nonetheless.

Now, you’re sitting in his stupidly comfortable desk chair, your hands on his hips and his hands on your face as you kiss, and his stupid tongue piercing keeps catching on your teeth, and his stupid jagged teeth keep catching on your bottom lip. He’s grinding down onto you, and you’re both making quiet noises, either of irritation or satisfaction, into each other’s mouths.

“You know,” he says, pulling away with his hands still on your face. “I sure do  _ love _ this whole thing we’re doing, but I did have a plan, you know.”

You roll your eyes. “And yet, here we are.” You lean up to continue the kiss, but he leans back and laughs when you give an irritated pout in response.

“You’re so impatient, man,” he pokes fun at you, pushing your shoulder a bit before getting up. 

You sit back, crossing one leg over the other and resting your chin on your hand, tapping a finger on your cheek as he opens a drawer and takes out a box you’ve both delved into many, many times before. This time, he pulls out something new. It looks kind of boring, like a normal fake bulge. It’s cobalt, because of course it is, but other than its stupid color, it looks completely ordinary. Nothing worth planning for.

You express this thought. “Boring. You made a  _ plan _ for a normal fake bulge?”

Mallek laughs his stupid, obnoxious laugh. “You’ll see.”

  
  
“Ominous. What’s so  _ special _ about this normal toy.”

  
  
“You’ll  _ see,  _ man,” he insists, walking back to you and unbuttoning your pants. He fumbles a bit before setting the fake bulge down and trying again with two hands, this time.

“Truly, you are a master of pailing. I’ve never had a greater partner than you. Wow, I’m spilling already,” you drawl.

He smacks your knee before pulling off your pants and taking your briefs with them. Picking the toy back up, he hands it to you, getting up and sitting on a couch in front of where you were sitting.

  
  
“Go ahead.”

You hold it in your hand.  _ “Go ahead,” _ you repeat, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Humor me. Put it in.”

“I’m fully expecting this to be poisoned, somehow. You’re trying to kill me and this is your strange backwards way of doing it,” you complain, but you’re pushing two fingers into your nook anyways and opening yourself, pushing the toy in between them until it’s seated fully inside you. “There. Now what?”

Mallek shrugs.

  
  
“You-” you start, and you’re absolutely planning to take out this stupid toy, pin him to that couch and take what you want when the thing inside you starts vibrating. “Okay. Congratulations. You got a vibrator. Lucky me.”

  
  
He pulls a remote out of his pocket, waving it, and you can’t help but notice there are two dials on it. You don’t have to ask what the other one is for, because he turns it up two notches and the bulge starts squirming inside you on its own.

“I fail to see how this constitutes as a plan. You’re just going to watch me as I-” you have to cut yourself off when he turns the vibration dial all the way up for a second before turning it right back down. “As I sit here with a toy in?”

“Yeah, kind of,” he says, but he’s getting up again, so obviously, that isn’t the entire plan. There’s a distinctly metal noise as he retrieves something, and when he pulls it out you can barely believe how fucking stupid this is getting.

  
  
“Handcuffs,” you deadpan.

“Handcuffs,” he agrees, dangling two pairs off of one finger. He walks up to you and cuffs one of your wrists to one arm of the chair before you can react, but when he tries the other one you grab his wrist, pushing it away from you.

  
  
“Come on, cooperate,” he complains.

  
  
You just give him a glare, continuing to hold his wrist away from yours. 

  
  
He comes closer and quickly presses his mouth to yours, and that’s obviously a fucking distraction tactic, so yes, you kiss him back, but you pay close attention to the hand that you’re holding away from you, too.

Suddenly, the hand that you’re not paying attention to brushes against your grubscars, and you pull away, a surprised chittering noise coming from your throat.

He grins, and digs the tips of his fingers into one. Mostly on instinct, you let go of his wrist, smacking his other hand away from your grubscars. Quickly, he takes your wrist again and cuffs it to the other arm of the chair.

“Oh, fuck you,” you groan, pulling at the cuffs. No luck. 

“That’s  _ sort of _ the plan,” he responds, laughing his stupid laugh. The vibrations kick up a notch.

  
  
“Fuck  _ off,” _ you try again, leaning so the chair will roll away. It stops after about a foot of movement.

  
  
“Tied it to the desk,” he explains at your confused face. He’s grinning that toothy grin, and you don’t know if you’ve ever hated him more.

  
  
“This is fucking  _ boring,” _ you insist. “At least turn it up a bit more if you want this to be  _ fun.” _

“Okay,” Mallek concedes, and you watch as he turns both dials to the maximum setting.

You tense, clutching the arms of the chair and biting your lip. “I said- a  _ bit!” _ you complain, the toy  _ thrashing _ and buzzing away.

“I heard you loud and clear.”

“Oh- did you? I could have sworn a  _ bit more _ \- didn’t translate to  _ all the way!” _

He laughs again, shut the fuck up, you  _ hate _ him, and he sits on your lap again, facing you. One hand holds the remote and the other reaches for your bulge, letting it wrap around his fingers. Your head tilts back, over the back of the chair, your breathing growing heavy.

  
  
“Okay, fine,” he says, and turns both dials down about halfway.

  
  
You sigh in relief, pulling again at your stupid fucking constraints even though you know it won’t do anything.

“Yeah, I’m not letting up on that,” he confirms.

You chitter again, more angry, but suddenly there’s a sharp  _ pain _ at your bulge, is he  _ pinching _ the tip of your fucking bulge? You hate him so fucking much.

  
  
“Be nice.”

  
  
“I’m- your fucking  _ kismesis, _ I’m not meant to be  _ nice _ to you, you fucking  _ imbecile!”  _ You argue, struggling. He lets go of your bulge and presses you back against the chair with his forearm. Both settings on the remote max out again.

You moan, and it’s more angry than your moaning usually is, because god damn it, this thing writhing and vibrating inside of you is the most overstimulating thing, and you would like for it to be  _ turned down, now. _

“Say sorry,” Mallek says, and he sounds  _ so _ fucking amused.

  
  
“Absolutely  _ not-” _ you dig your teeth into your bottom lip, your head falling back again.

  
  
He doesn’t answer, only sits there, transferring the remote to the hand holding you back before grabbing your bulge again and pinching the tip again,  _ hard. _ You’re able to endure a few seconds of it before you half scream, half groan, trying to knock him off of you.

“Say sorry,” he repeats, pinching harder, ow, ow, ow, ow-

  
  
“ _ Fuck- _ Fine, sorry, sorry,  _ sorry-”  _ and you don’t sound sorry at all, you sound angry and petulant, but he lets up anyways, turning the toy back down and gently stroking your bulge instead of torturing it. You moan again, quieter. Still fucking pissed, though.

“That wasn’t that hard,” he teases, laughing. He stops pushing you back against the chair and puts the remote in his hoodie pocket, bringing that hand back up to pinch your cheek. “You’re blushing, Fussyfangs,” he laughs again.

You jerk your head away. “I wonder  _ why.” _

“‘Cause you like this so much?” He reaches into his pocket again.

  
  
“No, no, no,  _ no-”  _ you protest, but it’s happening again, the toy is turned all the way fucking up, both goddamn settings, and you can’t fucking handle that it’s still pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “At  _ least _ turn off the fucking- thrashing, moving, whatever!” You can’t think of good words right now. It’s fucking justifiable.

He laughs again, he finds this so goddamn funny, doesn’t he, fucking bastard, and relents, turning down the second dial all the way, freezing it in place. That causes yet  _ another _ problem. Your eyes widen, and you bite your lip again. The toy, now stuck in place like this, presses against a spot inside you that drives you fucking  _ crazy,  _ and the vibrations are still all the way up. 

Mallek grins, pulling your face forwards so you’re forced to look at him. “What? This is what you wanted,” he points out. “You having a worse time, man? I would think you’re experienced enough to know vibrators aren’t as strong as they could be when they’re moving like that.”

You try to shake your head out of his grip. No dice. “That’s not-” you exhale a long moan, pulling at those stupid cuffs again. “Not what’s-”

  
  
“Not what’s what? Come on, you’re not an idiot, man.”   
  


“Shut  _ up,  _ I-”

  
  
“Mallek got your tongue?”

  
  
“Let me  _ speak!”  _ you complain, but you don’t really do much speaking after that, because you have to bite your lip again to hold back more sounds.

  
  
Mallek looks confused for a moment, before his expression turns to one of realization. “Ohhhh. It’s  _ there,  _ isn’t it?” he asks, letting go of your face.

  
  
You nod, exhaling heavily. “Turn it  _ down.” _

“Say please?”

“Fuck you.”

  
  
He reaches for your bulge again.

  
  
“Please! Please,” you say quickly, not really wanting to repeat Bulge Torture Time.

He grins, and turns it down to just above halfway, but it’s still buzzing against that spot, and  _ god,  _ you’re already suffering, you don’t need to come from this.

“Make it fucking  _ move away,” _ you demand.

  
  
“Pushy. Nah,” he decides.

“Fucking-  _ why?” _

“You look really fucking hot like this,” he explains bluntly.

“Uuuuu _ uuuugh,” _ you groan, throwing your head back again. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck-” you break off on a moan again as he strokes your bulge, your hips jerking upwards.

“Oh, no, don’t let me stop you,” Mallek says, pulling your bulge straight before letting it coil around his wrist.   


  
You make a choked noise, biting the inside of your cheek. “Fuck you, I  _ am _ going- to spill all over you, and I hope you drown.”

“Funny, I don’t remember saying you could do that.”   
  


“ _ Funny. _ I never asked for permission.”   
  


Mallek is silent for a moment, the only sound in the room your panting and the faint buzzing of the toy inside you. “Alright.”   
  


“Al-”

“If you come, I’ll turn this all the way up and leave.”   
  


“You’ll fucking  _ what?” _ You struggle again, against this stupid boy on your lap and the stupid cuffs on, because fuck _ no, _ that’s  _ not _ happening.

“You heard me,” he grins, pushing you back against the chair and continuing to play with your bulge.   
  


“At least make it  _ easy _ on me,” you complain.

“Do you know how this works?” he asks with a laugh. 

“Fuck you,” you groan, the sound turning high-pitched when he turns up the vibrator setting for the shortest of moments. “Fuck you. Fuck you.”

His hand on your bulge picks up speed.    


  
“ _ Fuck, _ I  _ know _ what you’re trying to do, fucking  _ qui-it it-” _ you say, the words interrupted by your sounds.

Suddenly, he gets up off your lap, and you think he’s going easy on you, foolishly, but he drops to his knees and holds your bulge in one hand.   
  


“No, no, no, no,  _ Mallek-” _ you shout, shaking your head, but his tongue is already running up your bulge, that stupid piercing making it even worse, and it’s only half a minute of him licking your bulge before he pulls back, gives one more pull, and you spill with a long groan, your hips jerking up. “Fuck you, fuck- fuck you,” you repeat.

Mallek laughs, sitting back and taking out the remote. “Well, I did make a threat. It’d be a pretty big coward move of me to not actually follow through.”   
  


“Malleee _ eeeeeeeeek,” _ you groan, pulling at the cuffs. 

“Laaaaanque,” he responds, grinning. He turns the vibration dial all the way up, but decides to leave the second one off. More goddamn torture for you. He watches as you moan loudly and struggle against the chair to no avail, and he’s absolutely getting so much satisfaction from this, you  _ hate _ him. “Well, alright,” he says, standing up. “Later.”   
  


He starts to walk out, and you make an almost growling noise. “I  _ hate _ you, the minute I’m out of this, I swear I’m pinning you to the fucking floor and making  _ sure _ you won’t be able to walk right for  _ weeks- _ don’t just walk out on me while I’m threatening you!” you shout, but it falls on deaf ears. The door closes behind him.  _ “Mallek, I swear to everything holy!” _ _   
_ __   


You try for what feels like forever, though you know from the clock on the wall it’s only been a few minutes, to escape, but, as they have every other time, your attempts fail. You fall back against the back of the chair after  _ four minutes _ , moaning through another orgasm so soon after your first one. Oh, this is going to be hell.

After two fucking  _ hours _ (and so many orgasms that you stopped counting after the sixth), the door to Mallek’s respiteblock opens, and in he walks, as if he didn’t leave you to come a dozen times because of a stupid toy. You have no doubts that you look like a mess. Your eyeliner has to be streaked down your face by now, you’ve spilled so many times it’s started collecting on the floor and in the seat of the chair, and your face has to be horribly jade tinted. You don’t know if it’ll ever go back to grey.

“How you doing?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice.

  
  
You’re panting, almost every exhale paired with a moan, and you fully plan to tell him off, but when you open your mouth to speak, all that comes is a long, absolutely _ indecent _ noise, as if it had been torn straight from a fucking porn clip.

“Yeah, me too,” Mallek nods seriously.

  
  
“Malleeeeeeeeeeeek,” you finally speak, drawing out his name.   


  
“Yeah?”

  
  
“Turn this o-a _ ah-” _ you’re interrupted by another fucking orgasm, it’s been twenty minutes since your last one, you think, fuck, maybe it’s been _ two,  _ thinking is so fucking difficult. “Mallek, Mallek, Mall _ ek _ -” you moan your spade’s name, your hips rocking back and forth. “Please,  _ god, _ fucking turn it  _ off,  _ I’m  _ dying.” _

Mallek grins, and you want to  _ hurt _ him. “What was that?”

“Oh, god, fuck you-  _ please!  _ Please, please, just fucking turn it off, pleeeease,” you’re  _ begging,  _ but you don’t care, you can’t find it in you to care, you’re being fucking  _ tortured  _ in the  _ best way possible _ and you need it to  _ end. _

“One more time?”

“Ple-e-eeeease,” you whine, looking up at him.

He seems to contemplate this for a moment. “Hmm. Yeah, alright.”

  
  
He turns off the vibrator, and you swear, you could weep with fucking joy when he pulls it out of you and starts to unlock the cuffs holding you to this stupid chair. You fall against him, your face in his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. “I’m going to  _ kill _ you.”

Mallek laughs, and laughs  _ harder _ when you yelp at him suddenly picking you up out of the chair and dropping you on the couch. He throws a change of clothes at you, and they aren’t  _ your _ clothes, but it really doesn’t matter at this point. You pull them on lethargically, and when he picks you up again, you barely react. He puts you in his recuperacoon, and he  _ knows _ you hate sleeping in these with clothes on, fuck this guy, but you don’t have the energy to protest. 

The last thing you remember before you fall asleep is Mallek pressing a kiss to your lips, his stupid septum piercing brushing against your upper lip.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonne nuit, baby


	3. Chapter 2.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternately titled: Lanque Get's His Revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing motivation is Momentarily Back so i'm grabbing it by the horns and riding with it! ill probably try to get more out this month as i'm stuck at home and have nothing better to do.

The next time you manage to get out of the caverns(for a non-party reason, of course, otherwise you’d be back within a night), you head straight for Mallek’s barely-a-hive.

You’ve had a few nights to plan out your revenge. Yes, maybe  _ revenge _ was a bit too dramatic, but a man gets nowhere without a bit of overdrama. Is  _ overdrama _ even a word? Well, if it wasn’t before, now it is. Fuck the rules. This is getting off topic. Think more about fucking.

You walk in through the front doors and beeline for the elevator, pressing the button a couple times and stepping back. When it opens, another troll is exiting, and though they give you a bit of a strange look, you flash a wave and your best customer service smile and step in the elevator after they leave. You press the  _ close door _ button quickly, to make sure no one else gets in with you. You are  _ not _ getting stuck in elevator smalltalk right before going to fuck your kismesis. Biggest turn-off in history.

After what feels like forever, you finally get to his floor and approach his front door. You knock, one two three. A voice calls from inside.

  
  
“Yeah?”

  
  
You roll your eyes. “Delivery!” you call back.

There’s a pause, probably Mallek deciding if that’s actually your voice. Apparently, he decides that it is.

“Oh, man. I don’t think I ordered anything, dude, must have the wrong place,” he says, though you can hear a grin in his voice.

“.... It’s a  _ gift,” _ you decide.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” And a pause later, Mallek’s door was swinging open. He feigns looking disappointed. “Oh, it’s just you.”

  
  
You roll your eyes again. “ _ Just _ me?” you scoff, crossing your arms. 

“Oh, sorry. To what do I owe this immeasurable honor, Your Snootiness?”

“Must I have a reason?” You uncross your arms, holding a hand to your chest in mock offense. “Can a man not visit his kismesis simply because he wants to  _ see _ him?”

  
  
Mallek thought about this for a moment. “... Nah. Why’re you here?”

  
  
“Oh… you know,” you say vaguely, reaching forwards and taking one of his hoodie strings into your hand, twirling it around a finger as if it were a lock of hair.

  
  
“Do I?” Mallek asks. 

He is  _ not _ making you verbally spell this out for him. So, you move your hand to grab at the neck of his hoodie instead, pulling him forward and pressing your lips to his. The two of you kiss for a moment, before you pull away, keeping your face close to his.

“I don’t know. Do you?” you ask. Maybe it’s a bit smug-sounding. Who can say.

Mallek pulls away, stepping back to actually let you into his place, finally. When you step in after him, he closes the door and sighs dramatically.

“Men really only want one thing, don’t they,” he says, shaking his head.

You can’t help but laugh(and, though it’s been a couple sweeps, you also can’t help but feel that little rush of pride at someone else referring to you as a man). “You’re a man, too. Moron.”

  
  
“Well, duh. I never said  _ I _ didn’t want that one thing.”

You shake your head, stifling another laugh. “Whatever. Get to your room,” you say, turning him by the shoulder and pushing him towards his room.

“Damn, okay, Br-”

  
“If you mention her name when we’re about to fuck, I’ll bite your ears off.”

  
  
Mallek shuts up, bringing a hand to one of his ears protectively. He moves to his room, and you follow.

When you enter his room, you close the door behind you, for no other reason than to pull him towards you into another kiss and turn him around, pushing him into it. His lips part after a moment, and you take the opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth, gripping his hoodie with one hand and holding the side of his face with the other. He bites your tongue lightly, and you chitter in the back of your throat, irritated.

After a long while, you pull away,  _ guiding _ him(see: pulling him, again) to his desk chair and shoving him down into it before settling down onto his lap. You realize that this is a  _ new _ chair, which means he probably had to replace the last one. The thought makes you a mix of disgusted, embarrassed, and perhaps, a little bit proud to have inconvenienced him like that. 

He looks up at you, grinning his stupid grin. “Like the new chair?”

  
  
You glare at him. “It’s subpar.”

  
  
“Hey, now, I know you’re just sad to see the old one go. So many good memories-”

  
  
As he speaks, you uncaptchalogue a pair of handcuffs(much like the ones he’d used on you before, only cooler, because they were in  _ your _ control, now) and attach his wrist to the arm of the chair.

“Oh, do go on, dear, I was so invested in what you were saying,” you say, smirking at him.

“I see what’s happening,” Mallek responds.

“Do you?” You busy yourself with attaching his other arm to the chair. He surprisingly puts up no resistance. 

  
  
“Course. It’s your  _ vengeance,  _ or whatever you’re calling it in your head.”

  
  
“Revenge. Though, I quite like vengeance.”

  
  
“Good word, isn’t it? So, what’s in store for me, Oh Powerful One?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” you smile down at him, pulling him into another quick kiss before sliding off his lap, kneeling in front of the chair and pulling down his pants and boxers.

His bulge is already peeking out of its sheath, and you coax it out slowly until it’s entirely unsheathed. You lean in, pulling it taut with one hand and licking up the underside of it, relishing in the way Mallek’s thighs tense for just a second before relaxing. You spend some more time licking his bulge before you glance up at him. His head is tilted back, his mouth parted slightly, his chest slowly moving up and down as he gasps and sighs his pleasure. Licking up to the tip again, you take him into your mouth, lowering your head until the tip of his bulge brushes the back of your throat, and he groans quietly. You give a slight laugh around his bulge, and the vibrations make him close a hand tightly around the arm of the chair that it’s cuffed to. You hum in satisfaction and continue your ministrations. 

Slowly, his breath picks up some speed, one hand now opening and closing periodically around the arm of the chair. After all this time, you can tell when he’s close, and so, when his eyes squeeze shut and his mouth opens on a silent show of pleasure-

You pull away.

He seems confused at first, as the feeling dies down and he notices he didn’t quite hit the peak he was hoping for. You brush at the side of your mouth with your thumb, picking up some pre-material and licking it off your finger with a grin.

“So  _ that’s _ what you’re doing?” Mallek asks.

“What’s what I’m doing?” You feign innocence. “I merely felt full.”

  
  
Mallek groans. “That’s totally what you’re doing. Prick.”

  
  
“Such rude words.” You pout, fake offended, as you undo your belt and start to pull your pants off. “You wound me.”

  
  
“I’m about to,” Mallek mumbles.   


  
“Watch it. You wouldn’t want me to  _ leave _ you like this, would you?”

  
  
Mallek seems to contemplate whether you actually would for a moment as you climb up onto his lap again, notably staying away from his bulge as you unbutton your shirt so it hangs open. 

  
  
“You wouldn’t.”

  
  
“Oh, but I would,” you respond, your voice lilting in a singsong fashion. 

“Sure. You’d just walk out after coming all this way to get your  _ vengeance.  _ Catch me believing that in a million and ten sweeps.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing his face with one hand and pulling it close.

  
  
“The sound of your voice grates on my ears, dearest. You know that?”

“Why do you think I talk so much?”

  
  
“So that it’s more satisfying when I shut you up?” you suggest, giving him a thin smile before letting go of his face.

“So that I can annoy you as much as- ohhh, fuck,” he groans when you guide his bulge into your nook, settling down until you’re flush with his lap again.

“What was that?”

  
  
“So that I can annoy you as much as-” he pauses when you grind your hips against his, moving his bulge inside you. “As  _ possible, _ you ass.”   
  


“Having trouble speaking, my dear?” You tilt your head, playing concerned. 

“Having trouble not being a raging bulgesucker?” he responds.

  
  
“Well, I don’t know about  _ raging,” _ you correct, grinding against him again.

“Oh, right. Just bulgesucker. Of c-” he takes another pause when you lift yourself up and lower back down onto him, one of his stupid teeth peeking out to bite his bottom lip .

  
  
“Do I  _ really _ have that much of an effect on you? Are you losing your composure  _ already?” _ you taunt, leaning in close to his face. 

In response, he surges forward, crashing his lips into yours. You smile once you get your bearings and push into the kiss, pressing his head back into the chair and placing both hands on either side of his face. Your bottom half occupies itself with riding Mallek’s bulge, pulling low sounds out of his mouth and into yours. Yet again, when he seems to be getting close(he’s never been good at hiding it), you pull off and away, smirking.

He groans in frustration. “Y’know, you’re fucking yourself over with this, too.”

  
  
“I’ve endured much worse, for much longer. Besides-” and you lean in close again- “I can spill as many times as I want before you even get the chance to  _ think _ about spilling for real. I could do this forever, darling.” You pat his cheek, a mockery of pale affection.

After a minute or so, you slip his bulge back inside you, sighing in satisfaction. 

“So glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Mallek grumbles. 

“And you’re not?” you ask, your hands trailing down to his grubscars, brushing over them. “I think your bulge-” you grind against him for emphasis- “has a different opinion on the matter.”

The cycle of ride and pull off continues a few more times, Mallek getting more and more frustrated after each time. Especially when the last one was prefaced by you  _ promising _ this would be the final time. Joke’s on him for believing you, really. 

This time, when you pull off, he groans some obscenities at you, and you grin as you slide off his lap and back to kneeling in front of him. You rest your elbows on his knees and look up at him as he glares down at you.   


  
“Shitty liar.”   


  
“Well, not  _ that _ shitty. You did believe me, dear.”

  
  
“If I hear you call me dear one more time-”

  
  
“What will you do?  _ Hit _ me? Oh, no. I would be devastated.” You pause. “Though, if you do decide on barbarism, do avoid the face. I can’t have  _ too _ many questions, of course.”   


  
“That would be too easy. I’m gonna fuckin’ get you.”

  
  
You stifle a laugh. “ _ Get _ me?” You shake your head. “Well, I look forward to being  _ got.” _

You lean forwards again and take his bulge in one hand to lick it, when a thought comes to your mind. You grin, not something you do often, and Mallek narrows his eyes.

  
  
“What are you thinking.”

  
  
“Oh, nothing,” you dismiss before leaning in closer and running your tongue along the entrance to his nook instead. 

He jolts, utterly unused to any sort of nook action when it comes to himself. As you continue, your tongue dipping in and out of his nook, his groans turn a tad higher-pitched, his hips pushing towards your face. Maybe it was the several times he’d been edged, or maybe you just found a secret sensitivity that you would absolutely have to exploit in the future. Either-or. 

When you pull away this time, he’s panting, and his hands close into fists as his eyes close, his vexation clear on his face. You smile and sit back against your heels.

_ “Asshole,” _ he accuses.

“Maybe,” you allow, bringing a hand to your own bulge and letting it coil around your fingers.

“Oh, are you torturing me more?”

  
  
“Now, why would this be torture?”   


  
“You’re taunting me, that’s why. Fucker.”

  
  
“Perhaps I am,” you admit, stroking your bulge. “Though that means you’re admitting to finding this attractive.”

  
  
“Who  _ wouldn’t, _ stupid?”   


  
You give a slightly exaggerated moan for show(though, the compliment  _ does _ shoot directly to your bulge) and close your eyes. “Ah, you flatter me, dear.”   


  
“Alright, now you’re just asking to get hurt.”

  
  
“Mm, yeah,” you say, purposefully acting like you’re not paying attention to a single word he’s saying.. 

“You’re not listening at all, are you?”

  
  
“What was that?” You open one eye and smirk.

  
  
Mallek pouts, glaring again. “Why are you  _ actually _ doing this?”

  
  
“Well, I don’t want you to finish before I do, this time,” you say.

  
  
“Funny how I don’t trust that I’m even gonna finish.”

  
  
“Guess you’ll have to find out, dearest.”

  
  
You spend a while more playing with your bulge before climbing back onto Mallek’s lap, guiding his bulge into your nook yet again. You waste no time getting to work, placing an arm over his shoulder as you ride him, letting your head tilt back as you moan freely. You can hear Mallek’s noises mixed in with yours, which is always lovely- he isn’t the loudest partner you’ve had, though you suppose you can’t complain  _ much, _ as he sure isn’t the quietest, either.

Your other hand moves to your bulge, holding it loosely as you continue to ride him. You lean forwards when you feel the pleasure building higher, sinking your teeth into the crook of his neck, if only to hear his sharp cry, finally spilling over him and the chair. And, luckily for him, as you clench around him, he finishes as well, and though it’s inside of you, you can tell it’s much more than usual, so maybe this has much more fun in it than you initially thought. You should do it more often, you think as you grind down onto him again, getting all you can out of him.    


  
You lay kisses over the bite mark you gave him, trailing them up to his face and eventually his mouth. Pulling off of him, you let his material come out of you and onto him as well.

As you uncuff him and pull him out of the chair, you find yourself hoping that he needs to replace  _ this _ one, too.   
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> got a request a while ago for Lanque Masturbation. here you go, happy hiveswap act 2 have a prettyboy getting off to his own reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would apologize for not updating this for 8 months but i DID specify that there would be no schedule so really i'm not sorry at all but i hope this makes up for it anyways

It wasn’t often that Lanque got a moment to himself. Whether he was out at a party, being harangued to perform his prudish jadely duties, or getting pulled into one of Wanshi’s little games- well, let’s just say Lanque learned quite a while ago to value his alone time. 

It wasn’t that Lanque was an introvert by any means. Quite the opposite, really. When it wasn’t his cloistermates, Lanque  _ thrived  _ around others. And fun times were always better with a partner. But some nights, a man does what he must.

So, finally blessed with a quiet moment, Lanque sat himself in front of his vanity, shoving aside the clutter and propping his legs up on the table to stare at himself in the mirror. He tilted his head upwards at his reflection, smiling as if it was some poor soul he was looking down on for a moment before he gave a satisfied little  _ “Hm” _ to the empty block. 

Lifting his hips up slightly, he grabbed the waistlines of his pants and boxers and pulled them down to cling around his lower thighs. He took a second to push the chair he was sitting in back just far enough to get a proper angle to see himself in the mirror. Looking at himself, almost lounging on his chair, legs spread just as far as his pants allowed, Lanque sighed.  _ God, _ did he look amazing. It was no wonder trolls loved him so much. 

He moved a hand down his torso, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. When the last button had been undone, he finally put his hands on the parts that  _ really _ mattered, using two fingers to rub his nook before dipping them inside, breathing out slowly. 

Sometimes, Lanque would play a game with himself in this spot, where he would look at his reflection and see just how long he could hold his disinterested expression while he played with himself. He wondered for a moment whether he should indulge that tonight before tossing the idea out. Maybe another night. For now, he just wanted to relax.    
  


With his other hand, he kneaded the skin around his sheath, coaxing his bulge out as he fingered himself slowly. His breath caught in his throat when his fingers prodded one of his sweet spots, and he let it out carefully, his lips turning up into a grin. Once his bulge was fully out, he wasted no time in taking hold of the base of it and stroking his hand upwards, squeezing slightly as he neared the tip. 

As he continued to play with his bulge, alternating between stroking and coiling it around his fingers, he made eye contact with himself in the mirror, taking it in. He didn’t look all that debauched, of course, it took much more to rattle Lanque Bombyx, but it certainly didn’t  _ hurt _ the experience, to catch his reflection as he let a quiet, breathy moan slip past his lips, his hips hitching slightly upwards. He bit one side of his lip, dragging his teeth back and messing up his lipstick in the process, but  _ fuck _ if it didn’t look hot.

To throw some fuel onto the fire, Lanque thought back to his last hookup. Just  _ remembering  _ how he trembled when Lanque rode him was enough to make a pulse of pleasure run through him, making another quiet noise escape his throat. He inhaled slowly through his nose, out through his mouth, picking up the pace in both hands, trying to angle his fingers into his sweet spot, not quite there, not quite-  _ there. _

Moving one leg off the table, he reached with his foot and pulled the bucket under it up to his chair, kicking it without much thought into the general area just below him before repositioning his leg on the desk, keeping up the speed of his fingers the whole time, his exhales starting to grow sharper as he moved. 

He kept this up a while longer, feeling as if he’d been  _ approaching _ the edge for ages, just shy of actually feeling the heat in his stomach that always came before he did. He shifted again in his seat, lowering his hips just slightly to get his fingers right where he wanted them again, cutting off a noise that threatened to be just a  _ bit _ louder than what he’d consider safe by pressing his lips together and inhaling through his nose, letting out a shaky exhale as he met his own eyes once again. His fingers now reaching that place with almost every thrust, he could feel the beginnings of that heat, his hips jerking up and into the waiting hand around his bulge. 

His reflection still stunned him. Even if it felt  _ much _ better coming from another, the way he looked under just his own ministrations… The idea that his partners got to see something  _ better _ than this sent another wave through him, pushing him right to the edge.

Lanque picked up the pace yet again, keeping his eyes locked on his reflection as his head tilted back and up, his hand around his bulge twisting  _ just _ in that way he enjoyed most and his fingers hitting there, there,  _ there-  _

His mouth opened on a moan that caught in his throat as pleasure washed over him, his bulge spilling over his hand and into the bucket below, his thighs shaking ever so slightly as he came. He took deep breaths, slowing his pace through any aftershocks until it came to a full stop, his fingers pulling out of his nook. He sighed, content.

Content, that is, until he looked at his hands and groaned. Cleanup, too, was far better with a second.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you want, you can leave requests for pairings(i'll probably only do m/m because i'm a gay guy and that's what i know how to write) or kinks or whatever i won't do weird pedo shit, shit with the other jades, etc go ham


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